Thursday, September 13, 2007

The Recital, Mr. Pooty Pants, One Cracked Tooth and a Hypochondriac

Things have obviously been hopping at the Cannady house, hm?

Abby deciding to give us a story-telling recital last night. To set the stage, she was standing in the middle of the den wearing nothing but panties (clothing of choice for the moment, IF she chooses to wear anything at all). Imagine the southern accent (she has a strong one and a lisp because she is gap-toothed). She tells us to "Listen. I'm going to tell a story. I was running to Grandma's, no MaMa's and I was hurrying and hurrying and hurrying, but I was goin toooooooooo fast. I had to slow down and then I got to MaMa's and there was my new cat! The End" (This is a semi-autobiographical work as there is NO new cat). We applauded and then received an encore performance. It was lovely. And if I do say so myself, brilliant!

J.T. and I were sitting in the chair together reading The Yellow Boat (fascinating book that) when he, um, let's one fly. I let the first one slide. but the second time... I looked at him and said: "We're going to have to call you Mr. Pooty Pants!" Which, of course, cracked him up. We had to set the book aside until he could keep it together....boys like a good crass joke, don't they? Rob told him not to say it at school. We have to say that ALOT at our house! "Okay, that stays here. Can't say it at school, right?" And Rob's mother says (usually after she has called Rob's father an ugly name): "MaMa shouldn't have said that. That wasn't very nice. I won't say it again," almost daily.... so the "I won't say it again" part is obviously a futile promise.

Rob also cracked his tooth yesterday and will have to have a root canal. Thank God we have dental insurance but we still have to pay $500 up front and the insurance will cover 80% of the $1800 total costs. AND they can't do it until MONDAY! So Rob is drinking through a straw and eating soft foods only. He also gets 5 days worth of serious pain medicine. If I were a less kind person, I would use this to my advantage. Sigh, alas I am sweet and too kind and shall just pamper him until Monday.

Rob's mother (our much loved resident hypochondriac) calls to check on him and says: "I have a cracked tooth, too! And we need to be careful that you don't get an infection that goes to your bloodstream and kills you" (I think I'm paraphrasing here). Which freaked Rob out and made me laugh (not the killing you part, the I have one too part) because if you have had an ailment, she has had it too and it was much worse than yours! We love her dearly, she keeps us laughing and is very, very kind, but sometimes our mothers make us groan!

Just think, I will be doing and saying things to my grown children one day that will make them roll their eyes and say: "Mother!" Payback is so very sweet.

Sadly, Crafty, looks are so very deceiving. THAT little one hides a very sour center behind that sweet exterior! I'm sure Rob will find a balance between pain medicine and cleaning duties.... hormones are, I think, stronger than medicine AND tooth pain.

Aunty, really.... is Rob going to want to clean if I give him ice cream?

Tracey, the little darling is anything but shy.... can't imagine where she gets this strong personality.... must be a recessive gene in our pool somewhere.

THe boys and bodily functions....they are a breed of their own, huh?In our household, thanks to generations ago on my father's side, we say "oh you shot a bunny" adn then the shooter is supposed to say, "Send it to heaven". I know this sounds ridiculous, but when you grow up with this, it's so hard to stop. Yes, my kids say this now. I also think i could win hands down in the 'precious' mother in law stakes. THank god mine is currently back in Italy again. yay.

Now whilst she looks very sweet and her recital was obviously lovely that is the best angling for a new cat to come out of a childs mouth. I reckon. I am feeling a little nauseous at the thought of cracked teeth, and root canal, and icecream.That aunty is so evil.

Definitely give him ice cream. It will really give him something to whinge about.

As for my family, we are more delicate than using Pooty Pants or as in Stomper's case, crass things like the word Fart.

Noooo, in my family, we say "Fluffy got let off the chain".

I always remember in my schoolgirl silliness, looking up the word Fart in the dictionary. The explanation at the time said "an explosion between the legs". Very interesting. I don't know what it says now, I haven't looked lately. I grew out of that kind of thing last year.